Law School Murders: Almost Cold

The office of the dean looked stately and staid. It featured few if any modern furniture. A desktop computer was the only sign of the twenty-first century. Kim sat across from Heather Boskin. As a sixty-three-year old grandmother, she had gray hairs in her dark brown hair that matched her dark brown skin.

“Kimberle, you’re going to want to be as transparent as possible with this information.”

“One of my students is trying to kill me. I know I should’ve said something earlier. But I wanted to investigate for myself.”

“Still pulling your detective maneuvers,” Heather smiled faintly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We can enlist the campus police as well as the city and county. If we have to escalate to the state or FBI, we can do that, too.”

“Of course.”

“I just wanted to ask…do you have any clue as to who this might be?”

“I have one student in mind, but I think she’s a red herring,” Kim related.

“You’re probably right. Has this student approached you privately?”

“Yes she has.”

“She?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You think it’s a female?”

“The report from the ME said it was a black female. This young woman came to me after-hours to discuss her work. I noticed her hands and her eye movements and her voice. Nothing seemed off. She encountered me again and same thing.”

“Let me tell you a story. My first year as a public defender, my client wanted to become romantically involved with me. I knew he was coming onto me and I had to stop it. I had to be firm and professional and let him know that I was not going to entertain such behavior. He stopped. Did you in class let everyone know that their actions could mean serious consequences?”

Kim rubbed her hands together. It was the first time she felt vulnerable in years. Even with the time behind bars, she didn’t feel uncomfortable because of her innocence. This was different. This was ignorance. She had no idea what to make of the threat.

“I just wanted to investigate on my own and not let on that I knew there was anyone out there who wanted to do me harm,” Kim explained.

“What we will do is interview each student—”

“Ma’am, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I certainly do. If anyone threatens a member of faculty or a student, they will be dealt with head on, and without delay,” she said. Her voice seemed hard and even. There was even a coolness to it, almost cold.

Kim felt that the dean sincerely cared for her situation. It was like a maternal sensitivity applied to the situation. She welcomed it.

“I thank you for that, ma’am.”

“We’re going ro ensure that everyone is free from harm on this campus. We’re going to discover who is making these threats. And we’re going to do this swiftly.”

Kim felt a surge of genuine comfort. What she felt was something deeper and simpler at the same time. As she got up to leave, the dean stopped her at the door.

“You know who that client became?”

“No.”

“He’s my husband.”

Kim was floored. She should’ve known better about the revelation. She put her detective hat back on and opened the door. She went to her office where Miss Nova was standing outside her door. Kim wanted to keep the sense that she could master the narrative again. She sighed, “I should have known.” Then she addressed the student.

“Miss Nova, what may I help you with now?” Her voice was buoyant, almost bouncy. It was almost like she was testing her.